Falling in to Grace
by Helena667
Summary: MurphyxOC: Eve is the daughter of the Irish mob boss. Her job is to kill the Saints, or to lose her life. Her father is a cruel man and won't hesitate to pull the trigger on her, but will that stop her heart from getting in the way? R/R
1. Prologue: Sainthood

**Prologue: Sainthood.**

The brothers sat across from each other, accompanied by their aging father. Their words were inaudible from this distance, but it could be assumed that they were deep in discussion about their next hit. The Saints of South Boston had much work to do.

Eve stood across from the window, gazing down from a building-top. The Saints were becoming quite a pain as far as the Irish mob was concerned. The O'Reilly's were not amused and it was beginning to cause discomfort for Eve. Unfortunately, if they weren't happy, neither was she. Agonizing, but true.

A thick Irish accent poured over the crackle and pop static of her walkie-talkie. "Eve, we've got shit to do. Get the Hell home before Da blows a gasket." A sigh escaped her lips as she hit the button simply replying with one word. "Aye." The mysterious woman disappeared in to the night, leaving the Saints to their business.


	2. One: Suicide Mission

**Chapter One: Suicide Mission**

Eve stepped in to the unlit hallway of the huge house that her father had owned for years. Sighing, she shrugged her leather coat off her shoulders and hung it on the rack beside her. "Da, I'm home." She walked down the hall turning in to the lavishly decorated living room to greet her father.

The old, graying man sat in the armchair holding a pipe. This was the man that owned much of South Boston, and the reason for that was loyalty. The reason for loyalty was fear. This was the man that sentenced people to death on a daily basis, and never shed a tear. His hand motioned to the small oak end table where an envelope lay waiting for her.

"Eve, I need you to do something. The Saints have become something of a nuisance, killing the people we do business with. They have to be stopped, and I expect you to do it. I want them dead, Eve. Screw it up, and I'll have your head on a platter, whether you're my daughter or not." He waved her away, focusing on his pipe tobacco, looking bored. Eve nervously picked up the envelope, her hands shaking. She grasped it firmly, and walked back into the hallway.

She inhaled deeply, staring blankly at the envelope. This was a death sentence that her father had handed her. No ordinary job, but a death sentence. She took another deep breath and ripped the envelope open. Her eyes fell over the paper, reading rapidly. Her jaw dropped as she read the words "undercover." She had to get close to the Saints? Know them, and earn their trust... Death... What a lovely adventure this will be.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Connor lit two cigarettes and passed one to Murphy while holding the second in his hand. "But, Da, you might be thinking too small here." Connor took a drag of his cigarette, perplexed at his fathers reasoning. He looked to Murphy for some back-up, but his brother sat indifferent.

"Son, ye don't think to small in the business we're in. Everything we do makes a difference to someone." Connor shrugged, taking his fathers words and letting them sink in. He opened his mouth to speak in protest, but was cut off. "A pimp may not seem like a normal job for us, but understand the evil that this man exerts on the world. Evil men are dead men."

"Da, don't we have something more important to do? I mean a pimp is all-" Connor's sentence was cut short by his fathers hand against the solid oak table, knocking Murphy's half-full beer over. Murphy glanced from the dribbling beer to his father. He rolled his eyes, and removed himself from the conversation to clean up the mess.

"Son, a woman's dignity is more important than you can ever imagine. A woman is held in high regards as I see it." Murphy returned to sop up the beer, now covering the tiled floor. "It starts tonight, son. Ya know where I stand, now make yours." Connor nodded, not daring to speak out against his father again. It was obvious at this point that he could make no argument, so he sat sheepishly with his thumb gently caressing the rosary around his neck. Underneath the table, Murphy threw the sopping wet towel aside and picked the 9mm Glock off the table. "Murphy, what's your thoughts, son?" Connor turned to his brother, interested in his standpoint.

Murphy turned to the conversation, aware that he was now a part of it. "Evil men, dead men, Da. I say we kill the son of a bitch." He paused to exhale the smoke from his cigarette. "We'll call it a cleansing." He smiled behind the smoking cigarette.


	3. Two: A Fine Pimp's Eve

**Chapter Two: A Fine Pimp's Eve**

"Eve, so good to see you again. Damn girl, you lookin' fine as Hell, just might have to put you on the street one of these nights. Mmmhmm." The pimp chuckled to himself while looking her over. "Yeah girl, I know I'd make a damn fine profit offa you."

"Don't get your hopes up, Eddie. The family asked me to drop by." Eve flashed a toothy grin before taking a drag off her nearly spent cigarette. "And perhaps you can help me with this one." The pimp scratched his head and sighed. "Jesus, Eddie! It's not like I'm asking much of you." He smiled sincerely and pulled himself together.

"Alright, girl. What do the O'Reilly's want with me this time?" Eve chuckled at how easily Eddie cracked. The assassin kept him curious, brushing up against him flirtatiously. "Are you sure you're here for the family, or are you here for a taste of the best?" A smile played on Eve's lips as she backed up, stepping gracefully in to the night.

"Trust me, Eddie. I'm here for the family. All the O'Reilly's ask of you is to die." The blood ran from his face, as she removed the Glock from the holster quickly, aiming between his eyes. She fired, but all that was heard was the muffled shot and Eddie's body crumpling to the cold gravel. Her thick Irish accent poured through the walkie-talkie. "Good news, Thomas." She paused to take a long drag off the cigarette before stomping it out. "The girls are off early tonight." She placed the talkie back on her belt. She went to work, straightening the body, folding the arms and placing two pennies over the eyes. Old habits die hard and beliefs die even harder. As she worked, she heard shuffling of feet in the dark. "And this is why they tell you to stay on the path and to keep off the moors." She stood up straight, removed her gun from the holster and trained it in the dark. "Who's there?"

"Hey Murph, looks like we've got competition." Connor whispered jokingly. He eyed the red-headed girl carefully. She was dead on their position and one bullet could kill either of them. Still, he snickered. "She even sounds faintly Irish." Murphy groaned. "What?" He laughed at his brothers annoyed reaction.

"Connor, she's pointing a gun at you, and you're discussing her ethnicity? Besides, she's said two words, so how the Hell would you know if she's Irish?" He laughed quietly, training his own gun on her.

"Oh, I see. The Saints of South Boston come to rescue some poor prostitutes? Aye, I read the papers. I know all about you boys, but you're too late, lads. Job's been done, so have a good night." They watched her unscrew the silencer and return the gun to it's holster. She started to disappear in to the alley when a bullet pierced her thigh and forced her to the gravel.

"Shit!" They hit the ground and Murphy looked from his brother to his father. "Shit, Da! We've got to do something! We can't just leave her there." His eyes were fixed on Eve as she struggled to fight the pain and get out. "Da, she's innocent, and no innocent blood will be shed. Da, we have to get her." His eyes plead with his father.

"Murph, we can't risk it, it's too dangerous." Connor whispered hurriedly. As they debated, another bullet pierced her arm. She groaned in pain as lead was raining down on her. "Murph, we can't do it." Connor begged his brother to reconsider the risks.

"Fuck you, man. I'm not leaving an innocent woman to die." Murphy rushed underneath the flickering streetlight, bullets hitting the ground around him. He pulled Eve, unconscious, over his shoulder and rushed back to his brother and father. Out of breath he murmured "Let's get the hell outta here." The three men fled the scene, back to the flat with the woman they'd never met but seemed to know so much about them; The Saints of South Boston.


	4. Three: Iron and Lead

**Chapter Three: Iron and Lead**

The girl laid unconscious on the table, bleeding on to the wood. "Murph, we've got to get the bullets out, wash your fucking hands!" Connor barked at his brother. He watched the woman breathe to check if it was even. Murphy..." He paused. "We don't know anything about this woman... How does she know anything about us?""Don't bother, Saints." The sound of her voice startled them. "Trust me, or not, the bullet thing." She smiled through gritted teeth. "It happens a lot." She clenched her teeth and dug her index and thumb into the wound, searching for the bullet. The brothers and their father watched intensely as she grunted in pain. She sighed in defeat and removed her fingers from the bleeding wound. "You." She pointed at Murphy. "Get me a knife or something." She sighed again, and removed her gloves. Murphy handed her a knife, she smiled thankfully and dug the sliver of metal in to the wound, prying the bullet out.

"So, um... My name's Murphy, my brother Connor and our Da." She grunted and the small piece of lead came in to view. She clutched the bullet between her fingers, tugged it out, and removed the knife.

"Name's Eve, and it's a pleasure to finally meet the Saints." She dug a pack of cigarettes from her leather jacket and lit one up. "Now, Murphy, would ya mind terribly digging this bullet out of me arm?" The girl smirked grimly and daintily handed him the knife. "Connor?" He nodded in response. "You do have an iron?" He nodded again. "Heat it up, please." He took long strides across the small room to the sink and pulled the iron out from underneath. She turned her attention to their father and grunted in pain as Murphy worked on her arm. "Sir." She paused to let a grunt escape her lips. "I mean no disrespect." She groaned in pain as the knife dug around the wound for the bullet. "My name- My name is Eve." A whimper escaped her lips as a tear slid down her cheek. She took a deep breath and began again. "Eve O'Reilly, and I hail from Clare." With her free hand, she wiped the stray tear away. From the corner of her eye she saw Connor give Murphy a skeptical look, but Murphy quickly brushed it off.

"Do you have any relation to the O'Reilly Irish mob, lass?" Their fathers eyes narrowed and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. What was she supposed to do? Oh yes, tell them that she was the daughter of the creator of the group he spoke of, and that she thanked them for their kindness, but she was here to kill them. No, that wasn't going to happen, so instead, given the choices, she lied.

"No, sir." She exhaled. "So many O'Reilly's in the damn country it's hard to know who's who." Another groan of pain escaped her lips as the bullet came in to view. A satisfied grin appeared on Murphy's face as he gripped the bullet and tore it from Eve's skin. "Thank you." A dimly gratuitous smile came to her lips and he nodded in reply. Connor brought the iron over and set it on the table. She took a drag off of the dying cigarette and continued the conversation with their father. "But, no. The O'Reilly's kill for power and money, where as my religious views tend to get in the way of that. I'm more in the field of vigilante justice, I guess you'd say. Although, the press has given you credit for much of my work." She rolled her eyes at the mistake as if it were obvious.

"Well, certainly explains a lot." Connor laughed. "Pick a wound, either way, it's gonna hurt like Hell." Eve pointed to her arm and tore the sleeve of her shirt from the shoulder seam. She peeled the skin-tight cloth from her arm and handed it to Murphy. Their fingers brushed lightly as he took it, and put it in front of her mouth. Eve bit down on it and he pulled it tight in preparation. Connor eyed her nervously. "Ready?" She nodded quickly and inhaled deep. The hot iron touched her skin and she dug her fingers in to the table, convulsing heavily. Connor removed the iron and her breathing began to return to normal.

Murphy patted her on the shoulder and she winced. "Relax, only one more to go. Whenever you're ready." She sighed and nodded. "But... The jeans have to go..." She turned and looked at him sharply. "I'm sorry! But where the wound is, we can't roll them up."

Eve stood and unbuttoned her jeans. She knew he was right, there was no way in Hell. She slipped the pants down her thighs and kicked them off. She resumed sitting on the table. "Sir, never did catch your name." She directed the statement at their father, whom met her eyes. Murphy and Connor were busy imagining the indulgence of her skin, smiles plastered on their faces. Eve took a drag off of her nearly spent cigarette and nodded respectfully at the man.

"They call me Il Duce, but these boys call me Da." She choked on her cigarette smoke after hearing the words. "What surprises you about me, lass?" She tried to shake the shock off, but nothing would help. It was true, her father had signed her death warrant. It was official at this point. Il Duce, the monster of Dublin.

She shook her head, trying to focus on the question.

"T-they used to tell me stories back in Clare... E-everyone aside from women and children." Her sight fell to the floor, sheepishly. "They used to call you a monst-" The old man cut her off.

"A monster, trust me child. I know." A smile grew on his face as he chuckled to himself. "I've killed many men in my time here on Earth, but I assure you... I've atoned for it." The smile faded. "Now, shall we stop the bleeding, lass?" Eve nodded nervously and placed the cloth back in her mouth as Murphy pulled it tight.

She inhaled deeply as Connor placed the hot iron on her skin for a second time. The cigarette fell from between her fingers as she convulsed more violently than the last time. Her breathing was heavy when Connor removed the iron and tears were freely streaming down her face. Eve removed the cloth and gasped lustfully for breath. "Damn, that one hurt a little bit."

Murphy laughed. "Just a little bit, you think? Only a little bit?" She nodded. wiping the tears from her face, laughing.

"Just a wee little bit." She smiled as she reached for her cigarettes.


	5. Four: A Job To Do

**Chapter Four: A Job to Do**

The news blared in to the wee hours of the night, with another display of vigilantism claimed to the Saints. "Do ya see what I mean? Everything I do! Everything just serves as more credit to you bastards." She ended bitterly. "It's blasphemy, it's a travesty, that's what it is." Murphy looked at her, focusing on her green eyes with his brown.

"Is that what it is? A travesty?" He snickered. "Just a damn shame." He looked to Connor, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes! That's exactly what it is! A travesty." Eve crossed her arms, bitterly, eyes still locked on Murphy's, studying every intricate detail on his face. "Yes..."

"Yes? Well, cheer up, darlin'; you could always be a new recruit." Murphy relocked eyes with her, but no one else seemed to realize the intensity of the moment. "Eh, Connor?" His nostrils flared as he exhaled. Blushing, Eve tore away from his hard gaze. Her target certainly was charming, and that was going to pose a problem.

"Da?" The sound of Connor's voice broke her train of thought. "Where is she-" He motioned towards Eve. "Going to sleep?" Murphy's eyes lit up, the wheels turning obviously in his head.

"Well, you can sleep with me." A sly smile appeared on his face, generating an unbelievable aura. "My bed's open."

Eve rolled her eyes, slightly embarrassed. "Um, right. If it's all the same, I'll opt for the floor, then." Eve said, beaming at his jaw, slack with shock. "Hell, lad, when's the last time you got laid?" A truly offended expression formed on his strong features, and the sound of Connor laughing rang through the background.

Connor came to Murphy's rescue. "That's not very nice, Eve. Now, look, you've gone and hurt Murph's feelings. Ya've got to apologize to him." Murphy began to whimper, attempting to gain sympathy. "He's a sensitive guy, Murph is." Connor choked out, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Aw, my poor saint." Eve crawled on to his lap and stroked his hair. "Poor Murphy, I'm so sorry." Murphy looked up at her, beaming in a cocky fashion. "But, for Christ's sake, man up!" Eve pushed herself off of his lap and took the seat next to him. She grabbed the cigarettes off of the table and opened it, a smile playing on her lips, glimmering with pride. She plucked a cigarette from the box and searched through her jean pockets for a lighter. "Damn it, I've gone and lost my lighter again." She sighed and looked to Murphy pleadingly. Grudgingly, he fished a zippo from his pocket and handed it to her.

"This does not mean you're forgiven." Eve sighed and flipped the zippo open. "You don't even seem to mind. Unbelievable." Murphy smiled and took the lighter after her cigarette was lit.

"Now that I think about it, where am I sleeping tonight?" Eve looked from Murphy to Connor, to Il Duce and back. Connor and Murphy locked eyes in competition.

"Eve." Il Duce began. "You'll be sleepin' with Murphy," He shot a stern look at his son before saying "But you best behave, Murph. If you don't, I'll see to it that you go to the floor." Eve turned to face Murphy, but his gaze remained on his father. Il Duce gave a quick wink in Murphy's direction and then looked back to the television. Murphy turned one corner of his mouth up to form a crooked smile and then looked back to Eve.

"Lads and Lass, I suggest we get some sleep. It appears that another Russian crime syndicate has appeared in our neck of the woods." Il Duce paused to sip on his beer. "Rumor is, they meet in the back room of a bar to avoid suspicion. Ye may be tempted, but the syndicate bosses and under-bosses are our targets, no one else shall come to harm. We can make no mistakes on this, our very lives are at stake if we do. " He focused his eyes on Eve. "We'd be honored if you'd join us." He smiled gently, making Eve momentarily forget that she was being invited to a bloodbath.

Eve stole Murphy's beer off the table and took a long drink. "Aah," She set it back on the table and looked at Murphy, who looked slack-jawed with shock. "We'll call it a cleansing." She beamed towards Il Duce after getting full satisfaction out of the look on Murphy's face. She brought her hand to her rosary in thought. Murphy followed her hand, glimpsing at what she was holding. He removed her hand to study the jewelry further.

"When you said you were religious, I didn't think you meant that you were Catholic." He studied it carefully. "It's very pretty, not at all cheap. Where'd you get it?" He fixed his eyes on hers, waiting for a response.

"My mother bought it for me, actually. She was a good woman, intelligent, and beautiful." Seasons of memories came flooding back to Eve. "I sit in church every Sunday, and unlike most people I listen. More than half the reason I went in to the field of vigilante justice." She sighed, wishing the subject would change.

"What do you mean was?" Murphy asked. Eve looked puzzled as she met his eyes. "Oh, you said was a good woman. Past tense." Eve's eyes fell to the floor.

"She's still in Clare. I haven't seen her or heard from her in about ten years." Eve wrapped herself in her thoughts. "I was sixteen the day that we left for Boston. My father made promises of new opportunity, new life... New, new, new. Ma was skeptical. She didn't want to take a chance and be left with nothing." She re-met Murphy's gaze. "Can we go to bed?" Murphy nodded, looking as if he'd felt bad for bringing it up.

He disappeared in to the other room while Eve sat like a stone on the couch. She stared at the television, acting interested even though she was somewhere else. Somewhere prettier, somewhere no one could find her.

Murphy returned with a worn black tee-shirt draped over his bare shoulder. "Eve?" He shook her from her thoughts and offered the shirt with an outstretched arm. She smiled in gratitude and took it in her hand.

She stood and walked slowly over the the bed she would be sharing with Murphy and set the shirt upon it. She knelt and clasped her hands before the bed, praying. Murphy admired her from afar, as she had a certain light about her, but also a mysterious darkness. "Amen." She returned to her feet and began to undress. She removed her newly sleeveless shirt, baring her stomach and a black and white lacy bra. She turned away from him, and carefully unclasped her bra. She slid the straps down her arms and let it fall to the floor. She reached for the shirt and pulled it over her head and let it slide down her torso. "Murph, are you gonna stand there and watch me undress, or are you gonna do something productive?" She called to him.

Murphy turned his head in embarrassment. "Sorry," His cheeks turned red as he apologized. He went to continue but Connor's laughter broke his train of thought. "Shut up." He sneered at his brother and disappeared in to the other room again.

Eve continued to undress as she unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them off her legs. She folded them neatly and put them next to the rest of her clothing. Eve sat on the bed, over the quilt lying on her back, deep in thought; gently caressing her rosary and thinking of her mother. She prayed that God would guide her to the right path, that she could be more like her mother and less like her father. She prayed that she wouldn't have to do this job. She turned to face the wall. "Only God can save me now."

Murphy reappeared. "Eve, if you'd like you can hang your rosary next to Connor's and mine so that it doesn't get broken." She kissed the jewelry, and removed it from her neck. Murphy hung it on the peg that held his own rosary. He sat down on the bed and unlaced his boots and removed them and his socks from his feet. He smiled at the girl he barely knew in his bed. "So... Clare, huh?"

Eve smiled. No one had really ever taken interest in her, it was a nice change. "Yeah. Clare." She turned to face Murphy as he lay down beside her. "It was gorgeous there. Like I said, I was sixteen when we'd left. I can remember all the sights and smells. I loved it there. Ma and I would go out all the time, just to walk around the countryside." She paused to take a deep breath. "Da always said we'd go back to get her, but he got caught up in a skinny bimbo." She played with the strands of her red, flowing hair. "Boston would have it. That man... My father... Is a true monster." She trailed off, caught in between a rock and a hard place. She decided to not let it get to her. "So, where are you from Murph?"

Murphy sighed. "Connor and I are from Dublin. Our Ma is still there, as well, but we keep in touch. I'd love to hear more about you, Eve. You have such mystery about you, and I'd love to uncover it." Eve felt her cheeks heat up, and she giggled at Murphy's interest. "No, really." A smile played on his lips as Eve's laughter filled his ears. There was no doubt that she was gorgeous, with flowing red hair, and bright green eyes, but it was something else entirely. She intrigued him.


	6. Five: To Kill A Saint

**Chapter Five: To Kill a Saint**

The late afternoon sun poured through the window of the small apartment, concentrating itself on the faces of Murphy and Eve. Murphy awoke with a groan as Eve turned over, avoiding the light altogether. "Mmmm, who turned on the sun?" Murphy groaned as he turned on his stomach to escape the blinding light.

"I don't know, but they should turn it the fuck off..." Eve groaned, kicking the quilt off her feet. "I just want to sleep for another three years... Fuck, even three hours would be nice." She murmured in to the pillow.

Connor walked to Murphy's bedside and stripped the quilt from their bodies. "Sorry kids, it's time for school. Wake the fuck up." He turned on his heels and went back in to the kitchen with his father. Murphy groaned sleepily, grabbed the quilt, and pulled it back over him. Connor, without delay, trudged heavily back in to the room. "Murph, you're not fifteen anymore, get the fuck up. Really." He began to speak in Italian. "Che cosa la scopata voi sta facendo, Murphy? Perché sta portando la vostra camicia? Maledizione del dio, avete dormito con lei, avete fatto voi non? Scommettevo che lei eravate un virgin. Era. Fino voi, siete orribile, voi siete ammalato. Non posso credere che sia collegato con voi, voi scopata ammalata."

"Oh, thanks for the credit, Connor. I really do look that slutty, don't I? Or apparently, more like a virgin. I needed something comfortable to wear, we didn't have sex, and I'm not a virgin, just for your knowledge. Even before last night, so thanks for that." Connor and Murphy both looked shocked. "Oh, that's absolutely brilliant. You two think that you're the only two Irishmen who can be cultured? Yes. I speak Italian. As well as German, French, Japanese, Russian, Dutch, and Spanish. My father insisted upon it, as he deals with international clients. He refused to have his daughter look like an idiot, or a mute in front of them." Eve sat up and rubbed her eyes and crawled over a still shocked Murphy. She reached for the sky and arched her back, stretching the sleep out of her body. Yawning slightly, she found her jeans and pulled them over her skin.

"Nice ass, Eve. Gotta say, I enjoy that first thing in the morning." Murphy smiled sleepily and turned over, falling back to sleep.

"Murphy, wake the fuck up!" Connor yelled uselessly at his fraternal twin. Moments later, they heard the shower kick on and Connor saw Eve return with a bucket of water. "Murph, I strongly suggest that you wake up... Now." He said stifling a laugh.

"Connor, really, it's no use. Don't try to save him. Murphy, you have three seconds to wake up." She eyed the unmoving body in the bed before her. "Three." Nothing. "Two." Still nothing. "One. I suggest it, really." Still nothing. "Okay, don't say I didn't warn you." Eve emptied the bucket of icy water over Murphy's body. He shot straight up and glared at her. "Mornin' Murph! How'd ya sleep?" A cruel, teasing smile formed on her lips. "Would you like a towel?" Murphy nodded very slowly, his eyes transfixed on the evil woman beaming at him. His nostrils flared as water droplets formed on his face. "Alright. Guess you should've woken up, hm?" Connor and Eve laughed to themselves as Eve disappeared to find a towel.

She reappeared, still snickering. "Why would you do that?" Murphy asked. "Seriously, what would possess someone to do that? That's cruel. That's not only cruel! That's evil. Evil men are dead men, Eve." He looked to Connor. "I think we should kill her. That's evil. Just not nice at all."

"I thought it was hilarious, Murph. I don't know what you're talkin' about." Connor flashed a toothy grin at his drenched brother. "You look like a drown rat, you know that?"

"I'd like to take this time to inform you both that I hate you. Like a lot." Il Duce appeared in the doorway, and Murphy jumped up immediately. "Mornin' Da." He grabbed the towel from Eve and shot her one last glare.

"Murphy, get dry clothes on, and join us in the kitchen. And Eve..." He fixed his gaze on her. "Nicely done." He smiled, amused and returned to the kitchen, Connor and Eve following.

"Why does everyone think this is funny? Really.... It's not." Murphy muttered to himself. He pulled himself out of his wet jeans and went to search for a dryer pair.

"The syndicate meets in the back of the Junction every week. No one knows what they're discussing, but the three bartenders on this particular night of the week are all Russian. Eve, this is where you come in." Il Duce looked to Eve, making it clear that they needed her to do this. "You must distract the bartenders. All three of them, so that Murph, Connor, and I can slip in to the back. Greet them in English, but try to conceal your accent. Understandably, they're not too keen on the Irish when there's business in the back. Ask where they're from, and when you learn, speak to them in Russian. This will help to distract all three bartenders, rather than just one." Eve nodded as Murphy walked in and took a seat at the bloodstained table. "When you see us slip in to the back, claim that you're going to the bathroom and follow us in. That's when the real fun starts. After all the targets are killed, we get to work, and Connor, Murphy and I will exit through the window and down the fire escape. You'll return to the front and claim you heard something and leave. Does everyone understand?" The three of them nodded in unison, concentrating.

They began to get ready, organizing their guns and equipment. Everything from Glock, Smith & Wesson, Nighthawk, to Ruger. All different calibers, ammunition, silencers, and holsters. They each grabbed three guns, all equipped with silencers to reduce the noise level. "No cops, no suspects." Il Duce reminded them of the importance of getting out of there. They were geared up and ready to go, serious expressions plastered to their faces.

They moved quickly through the back streets of Boston, making their way to the Junction. Before they entered, they decided to take a moment. Eve tried to hype herself up, nervousness had taken over. She tried to remind herself that she had done this before, that it was nothing. But still, the lives of comrades had never relied on her. She was alone in her line of work, until now.

Murphy, taking notice of Eve's anxiety pulled her aside. "Are you nervous, Eve?" She merely nodded, trying to concentrate. "Don't worry. It's an easy job, considering." She nodded again.

"Ya know, Murph, it's not like I've never done this, so don't treat me like I haven't. Lives of friends have never relied on my acting skills, and I'm not so sure that they're up to par... What if I mess up? Or blow our cover?" Murphy smiled, trying to ease her mind.

"You won't. I know you can do this. Any idiot can act, and from what I can tell, you're not an idiot. You'll be fine." A smile appeared on Eve's face. "Ready?" She nodded.

Eve entered the bar first, and took a seat at the bar. Il Duce, Connor, and Murphy followed five minutes behind her. She smiled at the tall bartender who greeted her. "What will it be, Miss?"

"I'll take a Whiskey on the rocks, cutie." She winked at the bartender after ordering and he produced a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He beamed at her while he poured her drink. "So, where are you from?" Eve asked him coyly.

"I'm from Moscow." He tried his best to be smooth, although it was obvious that he wasn't used to getting hit on. "Why so interested?"

Eve answered in fluent Russian. "Отсутствие причины. Как раз я думаю что вы действительно милый, и я полюбил получить, что знал вас." He looked taken aback, but he bent over the bar and began flirting with her in Russian.

"Действительно? Наилучшим образом, я полюбил бы препятствовать вам получить, что знал меня. Вы должны сказать здравствулте! к моим друзьям, я думаете что вы нашло они для того чтобы быть как раз как мило." He smirked at her, but then waved his friends over. This was their cue, and Eve doubted that they would get another chance. The other two bartenders dropped what they were doing and came to join the conversation. "Это Адам, Valentin, и я Anton. Я уверен что мы смогли все иметь некоторую потеху совместно."

From the corner of her eye, Eve saw the Saints get up and go to the back, still she continued the charade. "Я положитен что мы смогли." She spoke coyly. "Что вы говорите что когда вы получает 3 получить с работы, мы идем и делаем что-то совместно?" They looked to each other and smiles formed on their faces. She took this moment to excuse herself. "Я должен извинить к женской уборной. Я буду справедливо назад."

Eve stood, and straightened her shirt out before heading to the back to meet with the others. She met them in the dimly lit hallway, and they opened the door to find the syndicate members meeting. They turned to them and drew their guns. The Saints and Eve did the same, equipped to the tee. Eve aimed and took her first shot, and watched as he fell. She fixed a new target and fired on him, and turned away from him as he fell to find another. A loud gunshot was heard, and the three of them turned to watch Il Duce fall. A well aimed shot... They struck his temple. Connor and Murphy stood in disbelief at the one man remaining who had killed their father. He went to fire a shot on one of them, but didn't get the chance. Eve took two steps and forced her combat boot to his throat and he flattened against the wall behind him. The impact forced him to drop his gun and fall to his knees. She brought the barrel of her gun to his temple. "Wanna find out how much that hurts?" She nodded sadistically before pulling the trigger and watching his body crumple to the floor.

Eve got to work, while the brothers mourned the loss of their father as quickly as possible. Eve realized that she didn't feel happy, more that she felt guilty. While it was her job to get rid of the Saints, she didn't want what happened to Il Duce to happen. One less target, one less problem, but she still couldn't shake the feeling. Once the bodies were straightened out and arms folded, it was time to put the pennies. "Pay your fare to Charon." She mumbled to deaf ears. She placed the pennies on the men she didn't know and gave two pennies to Murphy to place on the man that she did know. She could hear them behind her.

"Da? Murphy whimpered. "No.." Connor shook his head as he inspected the bullet hole that took the life of his father.

"A damn lucky shot. He couldn't be helped, Murph..." Connor folded the arms and closed Il Duce's eyes for the final time. Eve watched as Murphy placed the pennies over his fathers eyes. With tears in their eyes, they recited their prayer; the one their father had taught them.

"And Shepherds we shall be, for Thee my lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti." Tears were freely streaming down their faces over their loss. They stood and gave one last look to their father before exiting through the window.

Eve ran her fingers through her hair, trying to breath the frustration away. She walked out of the door and straight up to the bar, hurried Russian spilling from her mouth. "Я находился в ванной комнате! Я услышал схватку, но меня слишком был вспугнут для того чтобы двинуть, я думаю что что-то может случиться! Пожалуйста, пожалуйста идет проверка!" The bartenders looked at each other and then ran to the back together. Eve rushed out the door and hurried down the block to meet the two remaining Saints.

They took their long walk in silence. Solemnly, Eve's eyes focused mainly on the ground as she puffed on a cigarette. "Connor... Murphy..." She stopped and looked at them, sorrow drenching her voice. "I'm so sorry." Guilt-stricken, she stomped her cigarette out. "If I had reacted faster, your father wouldn't be dead." She inhaled deeply, fighting tears. "I'm sorry."

Murphy and Connor looked to each other and then back at Eve. "Are you fucking joking? You've got to be. You were amazing, while the both of us were frozen. It's not your fault, so don't even begin to think it was." Murphy stomped his cigarette out on the gravel.

"It was a well-aimed shot. There was nothing that any of us could do to prevent it from happening. Job's done, Eve, and Da died the way he would've wanted to." Connor added. "Da's a real saint now, and the man is at peace. God bless him." Connor and Murphy started walking again, gleaming with pride over their father. That pride overwhelmed the pain of losing him.

"Well, I'll be damned." Eve muttered to herself, her breath hanging in the cold winter Boston air.

- - - - - - - - - - -

**A/N - First, I'd like to inform you all, in case you hadn't noticed, that this is the first Author's Note. Primarily to give you the translations for the Italian and Russian spoken words. And to let you know why I did that. I wanted to give it a realer feel, even if you don't understand either language. If you don't understand it, then you feel like everyone else who doesn't understand when you're hearing it. Except you have a one up on these people... You're lovely author.**

**Secondly, before I get to the translations, I'd like to point out the fact that I did indeed kill Il Duce. He just didn't fit in where I want to go with this story, and as sad as it is that I killed him off so early in the story, you still got to get a feel for his character. **

**And last before those damn translations, I figure I'll be doing AN's every five chapters or so, so you won't be hearing from me every chapter like you did in Lies Between Us. I feel like it takes away from the story. **

**And finally, the translations. Thank God for translation sites, seriously. They made my life on this one. **

**Italian** - What the fuck are you doing, Murphy? Why is she wearing your shirt? God damn, you slept with her, did you not? I bet you she was a virgin. Was. Until you, you are horrible, you are sick. I can not believe I am related to you, you sick fuck.

**Russian #1 - **No reason. Just I think you are really cute, and I would love to get to know you.

**Russian #2 - **Really? Well, I would love to let you get to know me. You should say Hello to my friends, I think you would find them to be just as cute.

**Russian #3 - **This is Adam, Valentin, and I am Anton. I am sure that we could all have some fun together.

**Russian #4 - **I am positive that we could. What do you say that when you get three get off work, we go and do something together? I must excuse myself to the ladies room. I will be right back.

**Russian #5 - **I was in the bathroom! I heard a struggle, but I was too scared to move, I think something may have happened! Please, please go check!

**Now like I said, translation sites were my tool, so I'm not sure how accurate they are. If you know for a fact that anything is wrong, please don't hesitate to e-mail me at **

**See you guys on ten.**

**R/R**


	7. Six: Sex in the Kitchen

**Chapter Six: Sex in the Kitchen**

**WARNING!!!!!!**

**This chapter is not suitable for anyone under the age of 16, or those of you sensitive to the idea of sexual content. This is a lemon and has no real use to the story other than relationship development. **

**Mature audiences only.**

Eve paced around the kitchen later that night, while the brothers talked. She knew that she was growing attached to them, that fact was obvious. She should have felt accomplished when Il Duce lost his life, but instead, she felt guilt. "Jesus, save me." She murmured through uneven breathing.

"Save you from what?" Murphy whispered in her ear. He was so close, she could feel his breath rushing down the nape of her neck. How could she not have realized that he was there? Startled at his sudden appearance, she jumped. "I'm still curious, Eve. Why all the mystery?" Eve turned to face him and it was then that she fully realized that she couldn't do the job. Murphy's honey brown eyes fell over her body, undressing it mentally.

"Murph, where's Connor?" Eve asked curiously, studying his eyes carefully. She tried to sidestep around him, but he was in front of her again.

"He's in bed. Went about twenty minutes ago." He paused to smile crookedly. "We're all alone, Eve." It was noticeable, he was trying to seduce her. He ran his fingers lightly over her collar bone, sending shivers down her spine.

"Murphy. You don't want me, real-" She was cut off as he placed his finger over her lips. He shook his head slowly. He removed his finger from her lips and brushed against them with his own. Eve didn't have a defense in the world against him. She was his for the taking, his to enjoy. His tongue slid across her bottom lip and she granted him access immediately. She felt his hands run up her back and lustfully grasp the clasp for her bra, undoing it quickly. His hands fell from her shirt just as quickly as they were there, instead reaching for the bottom seams of the shirt she was wearing. He pulled away from the kiss and pulled the shirt off of her body, revealing her stomach and the same bra from yesterday. The bra fell from her body only seconds after seeing it for the second time in his life.

Smiling slightly, he took her breasts in his hands, kneading her nipples gently. Eve rolled her head back and closed her eyes, moaning softly. She fell back against the island in the center of the room as Murphy continued to

pleasure her. He removed one of his hands to run his fingers through her long hair, and replaced his hand with his mouth. He grabbed a fistful of hair hard, and pulled just slightly. Eve moaned louder, as the pain intertwined with the pleasure that he was giving her. Murphy removed her breast from his mouth to whisper in her ear. "Really? You're one of those?" His hot breath clashed on Eve's eardrum, sending more shivers down her spine. He nibbled gently on her earlobe before bringing his canine down harder on it. Eve arched her back and let out a low moan. "You're gonna be a fun one." He chuckled lowly in her ear, sending more hot breath clashing against it. He grabbed her by her hips and set her on the island, scratching his nails over her skin. Eve reached longingly for his shirt, but Murphy backed away. "No, no. Not yet, dear." He smirked, seductively, enjoying her desperation. He scratched his nails down her stomach, lightly, indulging in the feeling of her skin beneath his hand. He reached her jeans and brought his hand from his side to unbutton them, and then tore them off, lustfully. Her panties came off just as fast. Murphy didn't even bother looking at the design, he was more interested in what was underneath. He took notice at the fact that she was shaved smooth as he spread her legs further apart to gain access to her. "Eve, I want to feel you squirm. Won't you squirm for me?"

"Ya know, Murph, you're quite the sadist." He snorted in reply to her comment and thrust two fingers deep inside her, finding great joy as she squirmed and began to moan louder.

"You love it." He noted as Eve tried uselessly to grab on to the tiles of the island, moaning loudly. She dug her fingernails into Murphy's shoulders, moaning in absolute pleasure as he thrust them in and out relentlessly.

"Oh, God, Murphy." She cried pleadingly to him. "Stop, please." Rather than stopping he thrust his fingers harder and faster in to her, mercilessly pounding her. He felt her on his fingers, once, twice, three times, and still didn't stop. It was only when he felt a fourth climax that he pulled his fingers from her. She gasped for breath as Murphy removed his own clothing. She went to reach for her cigarettes but Murphy batted them away. She watched the one substance that she needed clatter to the floor in a muted world. She could only imagine the noise the lighter made when it reached the ground. Her head was pounding with the sound of her heartbeat in her temples.

"We're not done here, Eve. I've still got more in store for ya." He smiled sadistically as he continued in the removal of his clothes. He threw his shirt to the floor, revealing a toned, muscular torso. Eve ran her fingers down his stomach, aching to feel his skin as he unbuttoned his jeans and shed them. "You want it, don't you?" Eve nodded, but could not bring her self to speak. "Ache for it?" His voice was a low whisper, seducing her with every word he spoke. "Ask for it, Eve." Eve could not muster the words, but nodded instead. "That won't do. You have to ask for it."

"Please, Murphy?" She pleaded with him. "Please, I need you. It's too much, please." He smiled crookedly, almost admiring his own work on her, as she begged for him. He granted her wish and thrust himself deep in to her. Eve's legs wrapped around him, wanting all of him as he thrust in and out. He grabbed her hips hard, digging his fingernails in to her skin as she moaned for him. After a moment, he loosened his grip on her, and slowed his thrusts. "Don't tease me, Murphy. Please, don't tease me." He felt her shudder with pleasure and kept his pace, letting a moan of his own escape. He felt her legs unwrap and he crawled on to the surface of the island on top of Eve. He kept the same pace as before, taking his time. She called his name again and Murphy moaned loudly.

"Eve, oh Eve." He moaned breathlessly to her. He rolled so that she was on top of him, still lying down as Murphy thrust deep in to her, and regained a faster pace. She rolled her hips, trying to keep time with him until she couldn't take it and sat straight up, getting him deeper. He moaned loudly as she gasped for breath, reaching another climax.

"Murphy! God, Murphy. Don't stop!" She moaned loudly as Murphy's hands ran up and down her chest, rolling her hips as he thrust. He called her name again, getting closer to his own climax. She crushed her lips against his hard, and felt his teeth gnash against her lip, sending her in to another climax. She moaned in to his lips, grinding against his hips. He moaned her name in to the kiss, reaching his own climax. She rolled off of him, lying on her back, gasping for air.

Murphy put his hands behind his head, glowing brilliantly with his feet dangling off the island. "Wow." He looked to Eve, flashing a toothy, stupid grin.

"That's it? That's all you have to say? You incubus. Wow.... Wows a good word for that, though." She turned on her side and gently kissed him on the lips, lingering, but only for a moment. "Can I have that cigarette now?" Murphy nodded, too drained to make a verbal reply. Eve hopped off the island, and walked over to her cigarettes, and searched for her lighter in vain. "That's the second lighter I've lost here. Your apartment eats lighters. Lighters that are mine." Murphy motioned towards his jeans and Eve walked over and fished the zippo out of the pocket, stuck a cigarette in her mouth and lit it. "Can we go to bed? I'm really tired now." Murphy sat up and hopped off the island.

"Yes. Bed. Sounds good." He gave her a thumbs up and stumbled dizzily in to the next room.

"Murph... You're still nak- Oh fuck it." Eve trudged dizzily behind him, leaving their clothes there, and hopped in to bed next to him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**A/N - I've decided that I lied about AN's. For this chapter only. It wasn't intended to be a sexual chapter, but that's what my head said to do. So I did. If you read the warning, congrats. I did it as tastefully as I could while still making it sexy. The sex was important for no other reason that relationship development. Ever notice how people who have sex get together unless it's a known one night stand? Or how about the fact that people that just had sex glow? Hm. Weird. Either way. R/R**.


	8. Seven: Fuck You, I'm Drunk

**Chapter Seven: Fuck You, I'm Drunk**

Murphy watched her in her restless sleep, tossing and turning, nightmares devouring her mind. She woke suddenly with a startled jump. "Murphy!!!!! No!" Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead as tears welled in her eyes.

Eve looked around the room, mind still hazed from the hellish nightmare that she'd just awoken from. She let out a relieved sigh, and lay back down, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. A voice called out to her in the dark room. "Eve? Are you okay?" Murphy. His fingertips brushed against her hip in an attempt to soothe her. She pulled away from the touch, and turned on her side. "Eve..." She noted the hurt in his voice, still she couldn't bring herself to accept this kindness. This thought made her stomach turn; she could feel the bile in her throat.

"Murphy... I have to go." He sat silent for a moment. "Please, just... Let me." He laced his fingers in between hers, but still, nothing verbal. The tears stung her eyes, as they welled. "Just... Forget about me." Eve sat up and tried to crawl from the small bed that she'd shared with this wonderful man for the past two nights, but his grip tightened.

"Eve... Please stay?" The moon filtered beautifully through the small windows, casting a dim blue light over Murphy's face. A small stream glistened on his cheek, and his face was contorted in a pleading expression. She couldn't handle it.

"I can't. I just can't." She pulled her hand away, sobbing. "I'm sorry." She raced to the kitchen for her clothes, Murphy not far behind her. She dressed quickly, attempting to escape a long conversation that would be too painful.

"Eve, why can't you stay? Please, just stop." Murphy pleaded with her as he threw his jeans on. Eve shot a forlorn look towards him. She didn't want to explain... She couldn't explain. "Eve! You can't leave." She looked up at him, tears falling to the floor. "Please... You can't. I love you." He smiled crookedly.

"Oh.... Murphy." She finished tying her black combat boots and stood straight. "I love you, too." She stood in front of him, touching her fingertips to his face, tenderly. She touched her lips to his, lingering, but only for a moment. "I'm sorry." Her face contorted, fighting back the tears as the last syllable rained down on him.

Eve's shoulder hit him as she walked past him to the door. Each step she took felt like she was miles away from the door, the world, and herself. _This is the right thing to do. _She told herself every time a step hit the hardwood floor. _You're saving him. _The tears came harder now as she reached the door and turned the knob. She looked back to see Murphy standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down his face, arm outstretched for her. She turned away, trudging heavily through the open door.

The solid door crashed to a close behind her as she stumbled down the hall, heart aching. The elevator rang as the doors open, revealing three businessmen and a trashy looking young girl. They stared at Eve awkwardly before filing out, and laughing at her plight. She filed in and pushed the close button repeatedly until the doors met together. As soon as she was alone, her head fell in her hands, she leaned against the flimsy wall, and slid to the floor. After a moment, she lifted her head and gasped for air, watching as the lights behind the numbers of the floors lit up as she slowly went down. She was in slow motion, wondering if she was making the right decision.

Suddenly, she jumped to her feet, punching the solid doors until her knuckles cracked and bled. "Why?!" She screamed to the uncaring world around her."Why does it have to be so fucking hard?" Her voice broke and the elevator doors opened to the lobby. She exited the elevator as a handful of people stared at her and the blood she was dripping on the white tile floor. "Stop fucking staring at me, you ignorant motherfuckers!" Her voice carried through the building, echoing from all directions.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Murphy sat alone on the kitchen floor, cradling his head in his hands. He remembered the way she looked at him before she left, what she said to him, the way her hands felt against his face. He couldn't believe it. He just let her go, didn't try to stop her... She wouldn't even tell him why. Earlier that night, everything had been fine. _What happened? _Murphy wondered to himself.

He had fallen for her in only two days, he had given her his heart, only to have it shredded and given back to him in pieces. She was so different from any woman he'd ever met, or anyone he'd ever talked to. She was so mysterious, but so innocent. "Damn her." He muttered to the stale air around him.

Connor appeared in the doorway, presenting sorrow. "You okay?" Murphy looked up at him, but spoke nothing. Connor sat down next to him, stroking his brothers hair. "You'll be alright, Murph. I know it hurts, but you'll be alright." Murphy rest his head on Connor's chest, as Connor tried to console him.

"It hurts so fucking bad, Connor." Murphy choked out through tears. "It hurts so fucking bad..." Connor shushed him, gently, trying to ease the pain. Minutes passed, but felt like hours... Even days. Neither of them spoke, just sat there. Murphy felt as if all the feeling in his body was gone, the nerve endings just decayed and fell away. "She's gone." Connor nodded. "Why did she go?" Murphy looked up at his brother, wanting a reason, any reason.

Connor shook his head. "I don't know, Murph. I wish I did." Murphy gripped Connor's tee-shirt, the numb fading as the pain flooded his heart again. He stumbled to his feet to the refrigerator, popping open a beer and guzzling it. He slammed the empty bottle on the counter and grabbed another, popping it open and repeating the process.

"Da's dead, Connor... Eve's gone... What the hell am I supposed to do?" Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled another beer out. He unscrewed the cap slowly, thinking to himself. "I miss him, Connor. We didn't even get to really meet him. We spent our whole lives thinking he was already dead... And now he is." Murphy fell to his knees and started guzzling his third beer in the span of five minutes. "And Eve? I still don't know anything about her, and yet I still love her for Christ knows why. What is this? Is this some sick game?" He turned his head towards the ceiling. "What the fuck do you call this, God? Why? You sick fuck..." He threw his bottle across the room, finding satisfaction in the sound of shattering glass.

Connor didn't dare touch him at this point. He had to get it out, and Connor knew it. He watched as Murphy guzzled another beer and throw the empty bottle across the room. He only threw it at half strength, it didn't shatter against the wall. Murphy was slumped over, the numb returning. He rose to his feet, tearing through cabinets in search of something a little harder. Glasses clattered to the floor, and counter, shattering as they hit the hard, tiled surfaces. Murphy felt a stinging sensation in his wrist. He investigated curiously, finding a wide gash pumping a steady flow of red blood through it. He stared at it for a moment, then returned to the cabinets. Seconds later he pulled a fifth of Jameson out, twisted the cap off and took a long gulp of it.

"Murphy, stop." Connor advised harshly. "Put it away." Murphy looked at him, wild-eyed. He turned his back on his brother, eying the gash on his arm. He took another drink from the bottle and poured some of the whiskey on the wound. The sting hit him and he gritted his teeth, making a slight hissing noise. "Murphy... Put the bottle down." He was only steps behind him, reaching for the bottle. Murphy angrily slammed the fifth to the counter and balled his fist up. "You better unclench that fist, Murphy." Connor warned. Murphy ignored him and smashed him in the jaw, sending him back a few feet. He regained his balance, rubbing his face. "I warned you, Murph." Connor constricted his hand and swung on Murphy, hitting him in the nose, and sending him to the floor. "But of course, you can't listen to me."

"You motherfucker!" Connor's cocky expression faded as he realized Murphy was still awake. Murphy, lying on shattered glass, grabbed Connor's legs and pulled them out from under him. Connor lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling unexpectedly. A drunk and bleeding Murphy crawl on top of him, fists clenched. He landed three blows on Connor's face before Connor grabbed him by the throat and bash the back of his head against the cabinets below the sink. Murphy fell limp over him, he pushed him off and drug him across the floor to his bed. He lifted his unconscious brother to his bed, walking about the small apartment to find some thread and a needle. Murphy was still bleeding steady and needed stitches, and hospitals were out of the question. Connor found the supplies needed and went back to Murphy to begin stitching up his arm.


	9. Eight: I Know the Pieces Fit

**Chapter Eight: I Know the Pieces Fit**

Eve sat underneath the overpass, sheltering herself from the cold downpour. She studied the skies, as dark gray clouds hung over South Boston. She thought of Murphy and how he must be faring... She wished she could have provided an actual explanation.

_He must hate me. _She told herself that there was no other possibility. She had crushed any hope of normalcy, but there was nothing normal about her. In just a few days, Thomas would find her and take her back to their father. She would be executed, there was no doubt in her mind about that. As long as they didn't know where the Saints were, she was fine with that. Boston needed Murphy and Connor much more than it needed her. She was part of the reason they were in this mess.

"How does someone cope with this? Take the lives of others, or die yourself..." She brought her hand to her neck to touch her rosary, but felt nothing but skin. Eve bowed her head, in solemn thought.

The rain eased up a bit, turning in to a light drizzle. Eve stepped from underneath her shelter and walked the mean streets of Boston. Alone. It was now that she recalled her brothers harsh words.

_"You will die alone, Eve. A lonely white sheep among a herd of black. What Shepherd would want you, child? You can't fight what you are forever._" Eve was seventeen at that time, fully dedicated to her beliefs and religion, surrounded by a family of murderers. The thought had crossed her mind many times, find acceptance in them, become a murderer. It still made her sick. She couldn't abandon something she had so much faith in then, and she wouldn't now.

The fog dimmed the streetlights, hazing them. At least she had her gun, if nothing else. "I'm going to die. I know this." Eve reminded herself. "If I have to die, I'm taking them with me." The fog shrouded the city, reminding Eve of the evil that was there.

Eve's head was cluttered, and she had to fix this fact if she were going to die for a cause. She made a vow there that she would at least see her father to Hell before she died. The only problem was the clutter that her mental filing cabinet had turned in to. She set her course to a hotel, any hotel would do. Sleazy, cheesy, Hampton Inn and Suites for all she cared, just somewhere she wouldn't be found immediately.

As she walked she found many disturbing occurrences in the nightlife of South Boston. Men in three-piece suits walked the slums, as drug fiends prowled suburban areas. She shielded her face from all these people, not knowing whether or not her father had any pull on them, either through fear or payment. Eve had to admit, she was scared. She couldn't die, she had vowed to herself before God, upon eternal damnation that she would take that monster with her. She was lost in her promises, and didn't realize when a group of muscular looking men surrounded her, their laughter breaking her from her thoughts.

"Oi, what's all this then?" Eve demanded, annoyed at the disturbance. No reply, other than demented laughter from the three of them. "Oh, right. I see. So, it's a gang bang ya want then? Well, I'm no whore, but why don't you ask those lads over there-" She pointed to a group of male prostitutes standing on the corner less than a block away. "They look as if they'd be your type, boys."

"What did you just say to us, you nasty little bitch?" His face was scruffy, like he hadn't shaved in a week, and he had some weight to him. He didn't scare Eve, but he certainly didn't make her any less weary of her actions.

"Did I offend ya, lad? I apologize, sincerely." She tried her best to stifle a laugh, but it was in vain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Really." She couldn't keep herself from laughing. The insanity she felt building over the last few years finally caught up to her. Her mind was in shambles as it was, and now Boston had handed her one more thing. Apes of men gathered around her intending to rape her? "Seriously, lads, I'm fine..." Her eyes flickered, portraying another emotion entirely. Rage. "But you're not." She removed the 9 mm Glock from it's holster and didn't even worry about the silencer. It was a slum neighborhood, and unlikely that anyone would call the cops. She fired a round in to the chest of the fat one that had spoken to her, turned and fired in to another man she didn't bother studying carefully, and turned to the last. Her mouth fell open in shock, her eyes seeing a boy about the age of fourteen or fifteen. Her gun was trained on him, aiming for his head, but she couldn't bring herself to fire the weapon. "Lad, what the fuck are ya doin'? You're so young, tryin' to rape women." She shook her head, ashamed for the boy. "Ya best change your ways, son, or the Saints or I will get ya. We're not big fans of evil deeds. Run on home and give your mother a kiss. Go on, get." She waved him away with the barrel of her gun.

The terrified boy ran down the street, and didn't stop to look back. Eve turned to the group of male prostitutes down the street and saw them looking at her, trying to see what was going on. "Oh, don't worry about it, honey. It's probably nothing." She heard one of them say. With that, their focus was turned to the cars coming down the road, and not on her. She straightened the bodies of the two men, and put pennies on their eyes, leaving them there for Boston police to find at a later date, if they even cared.

Not too much farther down the road was a sleazy hotel, and Eve assumed that if it looked that bad from here, it would probably be much worse up close. She had enough cash to cover one night without having to go to the ATM and rouse suspicion. She entered the dingy building, and realized she was being watched by the desk clerk. "Oi, lad, I need a room, but what I need most is privacy, and I'd appreciate if ya not bother me." The clerk nodded, and produced a key. She gave him a fake name, to assure that no one would find her here. "Rose McPherson" is what she had branded herself for the time being. "7B." She nodded gratuitously at the clerk and exited the lobby.

She walked down the sidewalk and up the short flight of stairs until she found her room. She quickly unlocked it, entered, and shut and locked the door behind her. There wasn't much to the room. A small desk, a bed, and a television that probably didn't get more than thirty channels. She sighed and flopped on the bed, turning on the television and flipping it to the news.

"_And we believe that one of the Saints was killed during a job late last night. The two remaining Saints are still on the run and the FBI and Boston Police Department are offering a reward of thirty-thousand dollars for turning them in. If you have any information on these two men, we urge you to please ca-_" Eve abruptly turned the television off.

"I need to get me head straight, and constantly hearing about the Saints is not going to help that... But forgetting Murphy is not an option." She stood and paced around the small room, thinking. She thought back to the first time she ever saw the Saints. Three years ago, at the Yakavetta trial, before her father became power and money-hungry. Il Duce told her that she must watch what happened there that day, so that everyone present in the courtroom would know what happened... She was sure that not one of them recognized her when she entered their lives for a second time, but the way Il Duce looked at her told her everything that she needed to know. He knew, and he had to of known her plans because of it.

She had mourned the loss of a semi-idol in her own way, the only way that she was allowed to since she had moved to Boston: silently. Because of what she was to do, she couldn't allow the brothers to know how she felt and how she knew any of them. "Aye... I need sleep." She said to herself. She flopped back down on the bed, holed up in a motel to clear her head and kill her family. Right, and she could ever consider herself to be normal.


	10. Nine: All for One Jameson

**Chapter Nine: All For One Jameson**

Days had passed, each minute feeling like hours. Eve watched the small hand tick slowly over the face of the clock, thinking. She had found solutions to the worlds hardest problems, growing accustomed to the bitter loneliness and embracing it with open arms. Thomas was right about one thing: She would die alone. Figuratively. She would have no one to mourn her loss, but she would not be the only O'Reilly soul leaving Earth.

Eve hadn't set the date of death, yet, although she knew it was drawing closer. Things became more clear as the fog disappeared from her mind, but there were things that were still haunting her. Him. Murphy. He was the only one who had shown her love, and she could never block him from her mind. The more she tried, the more she realized it was in vain. When she died, it would be him she saw behind her closed lids, praying that the agony of this life would pass and she could move on to the next.

The longer she was away from him, the less the pain subsided. This agony her heart plagued her with grew only worse as she watched the seconds tick. Nothing could stop her from imagining his scent, his crooked smile still lingering in her thoughts. "It was so short, why does it hurt so much?" She begged God to answer this burning question, to free her from the memory of him and the love she felt for a man she knew so briefly.

She sat up, cradling her head in her hands, trying to physically push the badgering thoughts away. She conceded to her defeat and stood, trudging heavily to the door. "I need a fuckin' drink." She sighed and pulled the heavy door from its latch, the cool night air caressing her face gently.

It was a long walk to the nearest bar, but it was worth it. She'd give anything to forget him, even temporarily. She forced the door to the latch and placed the key in its hole, turning and locking it. As she turned her gaze upward, all she could think of was him. The beauty of the stars and shining moon could do nothing but make her heart heavier in her chest. Sighing deeply, Eve walked to the nearest bar she could think of, her feet thudding against the pavement. The Green Dragon wasn't too far from where she was, she'd walked a great deal farther than she'd originally thought, briefly taking a moment to realize that she knew exactly where she was.

The tavern was only up a few blocks, but looking farther down the street, it seemed like miles. Eve forced herself to pick up the pace, people and places almost flying past her. Each step brought her closer to forgetting. It wasn't ten minutes before the door handle was in between her fingers. Smiling slightly to herself, she pulled the door open and took a seat at the bar, ordering a Jameson. She took a drink and lit herself a cigarette, catching a glimpse of the man at the other end of the bar.

"No shit." She mumbled under her breath. "Please don't recognize me." She took another swig of her drink, praying that he left without taking notice. The bartender put another Jameson in front of her, and started to walk away. "Oi, what's this? I didn't order this, mate."

"No, the man at the end of the bar bought it for you." Eve's jaw slackened in disbelief as one word came to mind. _Fuck. _She looked to him, his hard gaze meeting her eyes. The smile on his face was unbelievable, chuckling to himself as he reached in to his pocket and set her rosary on the bar, sliding it to her,

"For if I ever saw you again, lass. I figured I would." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Why don't you come down to my side of the bar so we can have a little chat." Eve ran her finger over the silver and beads in disbelief. She knocked back the Jameson in her other hand, knocked back the glass that he'd bought for her and stood to leave, grabbing the rosary quickly. "You know he's here, Eve, and you know he will see you. Don't try to avoid him, it won't work."

Eve's lips curved in to a sneer. "Fuck off, Connor. I had a damn good reason to leave." Connor smiled, not at her, but at something happening behind her. She took his silence as an opportunity to leave and turned to face the door, but there was no door. Everything faded and left him behind, his eyes glimmering in shock and his own disbelief. "Murphy...."

"Eve. Never thought I'd see you again." His lips curved to form the same crooked smile that had haunted her, but something was different. It was wounded... That thought she could not bear. She touched his face gently, and he bent down to press his lips to hers. "One last kiss?" Eve could feel her knees go weak as his lips touched hers. He pulled away, solemnly. "Thank you."

"Murphy, I didn't want to hurt you the way I did. I just... I was out of choices. I would be the death of you, really. I would." Murphy raised his eyebrow and smirked. "No, really... I would be. I have to explain something to you, and Connor. Then maybe you'll understand why I left." Murphy took a seat at the bar and motioned for her to take a seat next to him. "Bartender, three Jameson, please." The bartender nodded and filled three glasses, set them in front of them and walked off, obviously more intrigued by something else. "I'm not who you think I am." She sipped on her drink. "I didn't think I'd have to tell you, honestly I figured I'd be dead by now, but I'm not. But now that you're here, I might as well..." She took another drink and gingerly set the fragile glass on the wooden bar. Eve took a deep breath and began again. "My name is Eve O'Reilly, like I said it was, but my father is Duncan O'Reilly, the creator of the Irish mob." Their hands fell to their guns. "Before you shoot me, there's more." She reached for her cigarettes, taking one and lighting it. "I was sent to kill you by my father. That's why I left the way I did... I couldn't do it, I didn't want to in the first place, and then you and your father were so... Kind." Eve took a long drink of her Jameson.

"So you left because you couldn't do your job?" Murphy asked angrily. "I mean, I'm thankful to still be alive, but you don't think we could've handled ourselves? That's bullshit, Eve."

"As long as they didn't know where you lived, they couldn't hurt either one of you. It's my life or yours, I picked mine. Boston needs the Saints much more than it needs the daughter of a monster, but before you get angry at me, just realize that I was thinking of you and your brother." Murphy's agitated expression faded. "But there's still more to this tale. My father wasn't always like this, it was only after failing in Boston that he became power hungry. He used to be a good father, he just wanted something new, something that wasn't Ireland. Not long after losing his job, he met Yakavetta, that slob. He was introduced to money, power, and crime. When I got shot, that wasn't the first time that you'd met me, but the second. I was at the Yakavetta trial, the girl that your father commanded to watch the brutal slaying, that was me. I saw you both, and I was so young, so unaccustomed to murder, but I knew that Yakavetta was scum, and that he deserved what he was getting... After the trial, my father took his money and set up his own shop, and when you and your Da got closer to him is when he sent me. So, I'm gonna kill him." She finished nonchalantly, sipping on her drink.

"You're gonna what?" Connor asked in disbelief. "I'm sorry, did I just hear you correctly? So much for honor thy mother and father." Eve scoffed.

"As if there's much to honor in that man." She took a drag of her cigarette, smiling as the smoke filtered from her lungs. "But yes, you heard right. The O'Reilly's have been sentenced to death, and if I die with them... Well, if you wanna make an omelette, you have to break a few eggs, right?" She smiled.

"Eve, it makes me a bit uncomfortable to know that you're okay with dying." Murphy mused. "But then again, I guess you have to be, but I won't let you go in alone." Eve's stared sharply at Murphy, not saying anything. "You can't stop me. I'm going with you, whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it, Murph. Thanks for the concern and all, but you're not coming with me." Eve knocked back the rest of the whiskey and stood, ready to leave, but Murphy and Connor both grabbed her forearms and forced her back to her barstool.

"Eve, you might not like it, but we are going with you." Connor said, trying to reason. "You're giving yourself a death sentence going in alone like that, when it's partially our fault your in this mess."

"How the hell is it your fault?" Eve protested.

"We existed? Fuck, I dunno, but it was us that you were sent to kill, so where is it right that you have to die alone, if you die at all. We're going with you, deal with it. And you can go back to Murph's bed, no more lonely nights for you, Missy." Connor smiled, almost child-like, but Eve had been defeated. She could overpower them about as well as she had killed them: She couldn't. She sighed and placed her head on her hand, looking like a child who was told that they couldn't have a toy. Connor looked back at her, musing over her silent tantrum. "And more than that, we have better guns than you." Eve growled under her breath, glaring at the two brothers who had made it impossible for her to leave. Through all the bad that had come of this, one good thing came with it; Eve's heart no longer felt anchored down.


	11. Ten: No Such Thing as Bad Publicity

**Chapter Ten: No Such Thing as Bad Publicity**

Eve glanced around the primarily empty bar, paranoia setting in. The Saints didn't need any publicity, and Eve just didn't need to be in public. Murphy waved the bartender over for another round, handing him a few dollars for a tip before he walked away to fill their glasses. "Thank ya." He muttered as the man set the glasses on the solid oak and went about his buisiness. Eve took the cool glass in her hand, studying it momentarily, before putting it to her lips and taking a long drink. The three of them sat in silence, time passing slowly, but peacefully. "Aye, it's a bit quiet tonight, eh Connor?" Connor merely nodded and took a drink from his own glass. Murphy sighed and reached for his cigarettes before him on the bar. He took one and put it between his lips, taking his lighter and putting a flame to the tobacco. "Ahhh." He inhaled the smoke deeply, exhaling only seconds later, filling the room with a smoky haze.

"Murph, what do ya suppose we should do now?" Eve turned from her thoughts to him, seeking a personal opinion. "Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that I can't turn back. The entire thing has just become increasingly more complicated thanks to Connor noticing me, but at the same time it takes a weight off my shoulders." Murphy stared drunkenly at Eve, waiting for her to speak. "I don't think that we should go in, you're both so mentally unprepared for the worst of what could happen.I really want to try and make it as easy for you both as possible." Murphy and Connor looked to each other, trying to stifle their drunken laughter.

"Lass, apparently ya don't realize who you're talkin' to." Connor mused. "As if we've ever been fully prepared for any of the hits we've done. It takes away from the excitement, don't ya think?" Connor took another gulp of his drink and set down an empty glass. "Bartender, another round, if ya could." The bartender trudged heavily over, eyeing the clock, the hands ticking to nearly three.

"Last one, lads and lass, and then we're closin' for the night." Connor nodded and handed the man a few dollars, adding to his tips for the night. He took the empty glasses and replaced them with new ones, full of Jameson. "Appreciate the tips, gents." The bartender trudged away again, preoccupied with his closing tasks.

"Connor, I don't care if it takes away from it. These people are dangerous, my father learned from Yakavetta, and before you say anything, my father has truly perfected areas in which Yakavetta failed. He's trained my brothers, sister, and I to be murderers, to be prepared for anything, so imagine a smaller IRA with just as much gun-power where the people are just as dangerous as rabid wolves." Eve smiled crookedly, hoping that she conveyed her point to them. "Boys, I know my family, and I know that they will not hesitate to kill you in the most painful way imaginable. Imagine watching one of you die slowly, and painfully by means of torture. Not over the span of a night, but for a few days, maybe even a few months, killing you slowly and forcing the other brother to watch helplessly as a part of him dies." Their mouths fell open at the thought. "If you don't think they'll do it, then you're dead wrong. We must prepare for this." Eve guzzled the whiskey and slammed the glass on the bar. "It's almost three, let's let this man do his job. Finish up, lads."

Connor and Murphy both slammed what was left of their whiskey and left the money to cover the bill on the counter. "Thanks again, have a good night." Murphy called over his shoulder. They walked through the door, stepping in to the cold winter air. "Eve, do you really think they're that horrible?" She nodded solemnly, wishing that it weren't the truth. She knew that the brothers couldn't bear the thought of losing one another, especially after they'd experienced so much loss in the first place. "Then, we'll do this the right way. If you want to prepare, then we'll prepare. Tell us everything you know."

Behind them, they heard the doors lock bolt into place, and saw the lights flicker out as a shadow of darkness washed over them. The bartender was alone, staring out the window at the three of them. "Well, lads, seems you've made your last mistake." A crooked smile formed over his face as he reached for the phone, chuckling quietly to himself. He puffed on a smoldering cigarette as he dialed the number. "Yeah boss, they were just here. She was with 'em. Funny story, really... Seems they're going to try to kill you." The other line was silent, as Eve's father boiled over in rage.

"Well, we'll have to make sure we kill them first, won't we?" The irritation in Duncan's voice was highly noticable, obviously frustrated with his youngest daughter's choice. "Eve has just made a very large mistake..." The line went dead and the bartender ended the call, looking smug. He continued about his routine, a slight spring in his step.

**------------------------------------**

**A/N - Hey guys, I realize it's been a while since I've updated, but life has been kind of hectic for me over the last few months. I appreciate the small amount of feedback I've gotten, a lot, but I would really, really appreciate some more. Like I've said, this is a way for me to brush up on some skills so that I can write an original novel.**

**As far as the story goes? It seems that everyone is against the Saints and Eve, working for Eve's father. Now that her father is aware of their plan, what will happen? The Saints very lives depend on the success of killing the O'Reilly's and if it can't be done, their lives are no more. **

**I'll be updating this as often as possible. Be patient, please and understand that life sucks for hobbies. R/R and all that good stuff, and even some ideas would be great. Really, I'd love to hear where you'd like the story to go or if you have any ideas for another fanfic, you can either e-mail me at or contact me here. Hope you enjoy, and also sorry that it's so short.**


	12. Eleven: Family Trade

**Chapter Eleven: Family Trade**

Duncan O'Reilly was not a person you wanted angry at you. He was a brutally articulate man, with steady hands and a true Irish temper. It was true, he was aging and was no longer able to do the things he used to; but Duncan had obtained power over the years. That power meant that he could control and command more than half of Boston. The community viewed him as a necessary evil. Now, there he sat in his armchair; the light stretching across his wrinkled skin and in a moment of weakness, he released a sigh. Eve had made the wrong choice in crossing him, and now she would pay the price.

He heard the heavy walk of his son Thomas entering through the hallway. "Wipe that look off your face, boy. You walk too heavy..." The old man stared directly in to his eldest sons eyes, his brief weakness gone to be quickly replaced by anger. His lip curled, forming an bloodthirsty snarl on his face. "Your sister seems to think that her mission was an optional one? Aye, go show her the option she has left." Duncan was like a wrathful king upon his throne, waving his son away without a second thought.

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Eve's vision grew hazy as the whiskey swished back and forth inside her stomach. She was attentive, but far away. She tried to keep her focus as the world became dimmer, as she felt responsible for them. Murphy and Connor had to live regardless of whether or not Eve's life is extinguished. Her life, the Saints lives... They were all intertwined, far past the point of untangling. She shivered slightly, feeling the bite of a Boston winter for the first time in over an hour.

A soft smirk grew on Murphy's face as his fingertips brushed the sleeve of Eve's coat. She knew that he was so confused behind those gorgeous eyes. They asked for answers that Eve could never give, not even if she wanted to.

"Alright! So! What the fuck is this, then?" Connor patted a hand on a shoulder of Murphy and Eve, and leaned in close to his brother. "Are you better now?" He turned to Eve. "Did you get all your angst out? Aye, I suppose that comes later." He turned back to his brother and winked.

"Connor, shut the hell up, ya stupid bastard." Murphy snickered. Their weaknesses were many, and the risk was great. Through the snickers of three drunken morons there was a very real danger. It was Eve that heard it first.

"Boys, guns, now." She whispered hurriedly. The sobering effect that the risk of dying could produce was an amazing one at that. She pulled a pistol from it's holster and took the safety off. "Down the alley." The three of them drunkenly ran down the dark alley, gravel sliding under their feet. They turned the corner and took their positions, facing the only three directions someone could come. Their breath hung in the cold air, unsteady and nervous waiting for a noise from any direction.

"We should keep moving." Connor suggested, still training his gun towards the dark. He glanced around as he backed up slowly, searching for any movement. Eve covered him as she walked forward. They nodded, signaling that the area was clear. "Move quick." He motioned towards another back alley. "This way." They jogged swiftly, quietly cutting through the night, surveying each area as they went.

They came to the main streets, surveying the lighted areas. The apartment was just a few blocks from here. The risk didn't seem so great, so Eve relaxed her muscles. She took a deep breath and kneeled over to clear her head. Murphy knocked her to the ground without warning, taking a bullet to the stomach. "Murphy!" The color ran from Eve's world as Murphy fell to the ground beside her. She grabbed for his hand, tears of shock filling her eyes. "No!" Her voice broke, illustrating the agony she felt.

A cold laugh rang through the air, bouncing off the walls in the narrow alley. "Connor, take care of him. Get him out of here! Now!" Eve regained her composure through anger, and a ruthless shadow cast over her face. "Thomas, you coward." A snarl escaped her lips as she enunciated the last syllable. "Attack from the shadows and you can't be attacked yourself."

Eve unholstered her gun, covering Connor as he and Murphy limped quickly to the shadows. "Don't worry, Eve. It's not them I want just yet." His unbearably cruel laugh filled her ears again. "Your poor Saints. Whatever will Boston do without them?" Eve turned back to the alley, to be greeted by her brothers insane eyes. "Hello, Evie." She felt his knuckles across her face, knocking her back and having a whiplash effect. She rose to her feet, wiping the blood from her lip.

"That all ya've got brother? Aye, you're in need of practice." She scoffed. Thomas swung, but Eve ducked down, swinging her leg beneath his feet. He collapsed to the ground, raising his hand to pull the trigger. She smashed the heel of her heavy combat boot on to his wrist, and kicked the gun down the alley. "Fight like a real man, don't rely on your gun." He grabbed her leg with his free hand and pulled her to the concrete.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Evie." He snarled as he got up, on his feet before Eve could react. His steel-toe boot smashed into her ribs; she could feel the crack as it happened. She cried out in pain but crawled to her feet, slower this time. She stood knelt over, holding her ribs, Thomas unholstered another gun and brought the cold metal to her face, knocking her back a few steps.

Eve was punch-drunk, completely drunk and extremely injured, but Thomas kept going as blood spewed from Eve's face, staining the concrete. His hand wrapped tightly around her throat, lifting her off the ground. She felt the breath begin to leave her lungs as she fumbled to release his grip on her fragile throat. In a last stitch effort, she swung her foot to kick him. She connected with his nose and he released his grip in shock. She rolled back and unholstered her second gun and fired a shot to his knee. He stumbled to the ground screaming in agony. She didn't waste any time, and delivered a second shot between the eyes through the blood in hers. She collapsed to the ground and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Oh shit... That could've ended badly." She stood, the agony kicking in now that the adrenaline had worn off. Despite the pain, she disarmed her brother, taking anything he had that could be of use. She turned him on his back and folded his arms, placing pennies over his eyes. "May you burn in Hell, motherfucker. Amen." She fished her pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one. Eve turned her back on her brother and began making the short walk back to the apartment.


	13. Twelve: Worth It

**Twelve: Worth It**

Back at the apartment, things weren't doing to well. Murphy was losing a lot of blood and the wound was proving impossible to cauterize. Eve stumbled in, bloody and swollen from the fight with her brother, clutching her side. "How's he doin'?" She mumbled through her swollen, bloody lips.

Connor looked to her, filled with worry. "I don't think he's gonna make it." Exasperated and afraid for his brother, he looked to Eve for any kind of answer. "We have to do something." She clasped his hand in his, afraid to let go.

"Call an ambulance. I'll carry him outside." Connor started to protest. "Don't argue with me, just fucking do it, Connor!" He looked to his dying brother to a very bloody Eve, and ran to the lobby to use the payphone. Eve tightened her grip on his hand and slung him over her shoulder, gently helping him off the door seemed miles away as Murphy faded away. "Stay with me, Murph. Stay with me." She turned the knob, pulling the heavy door open, and slowly in to the hall.

None of this seemed real, and she wished it wasn't. She took him to the elevator and he started sputtering blood. "Eve, don't worry about me. Take care of Connor..." He rasped through the pain.

"I'm not gonna let you die, Murphy. Just stay with me, please." Tears filled her eyes as she fixed her gaze on his. They were clouding fast, losing the exuberance they contained just hours earlier.

"No, Eve! It's too late." He coughed, spitting blood. They hit the lobby and Connor was no where to be found. Flashing lights were visible just outside the doors as the ambulance hurried in. The adrenaline was wearing off completely, leaving Eve in pain and exhausted. As the ambulance took Murphy from her, she collapsed to the floor; her wounds creating a small puddle of blood. The world went black and she could see no more....

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She woke up hours earlier, with police officers around her. Startled, she tried to defend herself but the pain in her ribs sent a shockwave through her body that could floor even the toughest man. "Miss O'Reilly, is it?" Trapped, she merely nodded. "That man you were with-"

The memories instantly flooded back to her. "Where is he? Is he okay?" They stood in silence. "Is Murphy o-fucking-kay?" Every terrible thought possible infiltrated every weakness in her mind and she immediately thought the worst. "No, please... Tell me he's not."

"Murphy MacManus will recover, although we need to know how you came in contact with such a dangerous man, Miss O'Reilly." The officer stared at her, waiting for an answer, an explanation. Eve froze, unsure of what to say in the prescence of men who could easily strip her rights from her. "If you don't answer us, we'll just have to take you in to custody as well." Eve narrowed her eyes at the officer. A nurse came in to fiddle with the drugs in Eve's IV.

She smiled smugly. "I'm a Saint. Guess you'll just have to take me in, too." They shrugged their shoulders.

"Miss O'Reilly, I strongly advise against that claim. The consequences are dire and once you're able to be discharged, you'll be going to a women's state correctional facility." Eve shrugged slightly.

"There's some things where life in a state penn is well worth it. He's one of them." She drifted back in to sleep, leaving the officers to themselves.


	14. Thirteen: It's a Federal Matter

**Thirteen: It's a Federal Matter**

Once again Eve awoke to the sight of police officers. It had been a few days, her face had healed and the stitches were ready to come out. "Miss O'Reilly, your doctor says that you can be discharged after your stitches are out, and then we'll be taking you down to the station." A man was yelling angrily farther down the hall, making quite a bit of noise. The officer was briefly distracted, but started again. "We'll ask you a few questions, and depending on your answers we can set up a plea bargain, or you can go to a women's prison upstate." The yelling was approaching quickly.

"Stupid Boston police department, get this shit the fuck away from me! Oh, go cry to your momma, sissy boy." There was a figure outside of the door, obviously regaining composure before entering. A tall, dirty blonde man appeared; he had strong facial features, and the rage he felt was worn on his sleeve. This man was obviously not pleased, but what he wanted with Eve was the question.

"Eve O'Reilly?" Confused, she nodded slowly, as the man offered his hand to her. She shook it, and he turned to the officers. "The Saints are involved and once again you morons don't think it's a good idea to call me? The Saints of South Boston are a federal matter, and are you boys federal agents?" They shook their heads slowly. "Then why are you playing dress-up? And Greenly, where's my coffee?" He said while turning to the door. A dark haired man groaned and exited before even getting a chance to enter. "Get the fuck outta here." He sneered at the officers as they slowly exited the room. "Miss O'Reilly, I'm Agent Smecker."

"A fed. Because that's just who I wanted to see." Eve scoffed at the idea. The agent in front of her made an offended face. "Now, I'm already going to jail, how 'bout we make it a federal prison? That's what you're here for, aye?"

"Look, would you cut the 'I'm a tough bitch' crap? Listen, I'm here to help you, much li-" Eve cut him off before he could go any further.

"And how the hell do you intend to help me?" She was offended and perplexed at the idea, bewildered that this agent thought that he could get her to give a plea bargain. "Now, if you want me to sell my friends out, than you're dead wrong, mate, so why don't you just step the hell off."

"Eve, I think you're being a bit hard on Agent Smecker." The accent poured through his lips. "He truely is just here to help us. Connor called him the moment the ambulance took us away and all he's here to do is make sure we get away without any complications." Murphy wheeled a chair through the doorway and positioned himself in front of Eve's bed. "Forgive my friend for her hostility, mate."

"Oh, no Murphy. Don't apologize, she didn't know." For a second, Eve thought she detected a hint of flirtation but she quickly brushed it off, though the look of complete confusion stayed plastered on her face. "Anyway, we have to think of a plan. I have detectives Greenly, Dolly, and Duffy with me. To get you out of here, we're gonna need you guys to put up a fight. Make it believable that you got away, and we'll take you where you need to go."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Eve needed to roll back the conversation. "How the fuck did you get a federal agent on your side?" She whispered hurriedly. Murphy merely smiled and shrugged slightly. Greenly reappeared with a styrofoam coffee cup and two detectives.

"Eve, these are detectives Greenly." The dark haired man with the coffee waved grimly. "Duffy," A slightly smaller man, dressed in a suit nodded. "and Dolly." A round man with a bagel and a cup of coffee looked up and nodded. "Now, since we've gone and got ourselves caught, these gentleman are here to arrest us. Prepare for cuffs." Nurses came in and removed the IV from Eve's arm, and gave her some discharge papers to sign.

"The Saints are real heroes... Thank you for all that you've done for Boston." A petitie blonde nurse looked from Eve to Murphy grimly, nodded, and left the room once the papers were signed.

"Murphy MacManus, Eve O'Reilly, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Blah, blah, blah, you know the drill." Eve was allowed to dress, and the cuffs were slapped on. They were led down the hallway and in to the elevator, struggling against the cuffs and the detectives that held them. Outside, photographers snapped pictures as two of the three Saints were taken in to custody. Reporters talked in to the cameras, microphones pressed to their lips preparing their stories for the evening news.

They ducked their heads and sat in the back of a police car, looking around at the chaos that their arrest had caused. Smecker sat in the drivers seat and pulled away. "Where are you kids headed?" He mused.

"Roxbury Street, old man." Murphy flashed a bright smile and elbowed Eve playfully. "How about we get these cuffs off so I can wave to Greenly?" Smecker forced the keys through the wire cage holes that were there to protect him as Murphy took them in his teeth. Eve turned towards him and held out her hands, to catch the tiny key as it fell. She fumbled with it for a few minutes, but one cuff opened and she could move her arms again. She quickly undid the other cuff and unlocked Murphys. "Oi, thank you. Appreciate the help as usual. The cruiser pulled in to the parking lot and Smecker stepped out to open the door.

Murphy emerged from the car, stretching and yawning while Eve stepped out herself. Smecker placed his hand on Murphy's shoulder. "You know where I'll be if you need me, but you can't keep getting caught. It gets harder to make it look like you got away every time." He flashed a bright smile. "Now, look. Boston PD is gonna be keeping a very close eye on you, so make sure you keep whatever it is your doin' under wraps cuz I got about a half a dozen guys that would love to send you boys and girl to prison for a very long time." Murphy nodded grimly. "Alright, you call me." Smecker stepped back in to the drivers seat and closed the door, driving away.

They looked to each other and sighed, walking in the lobby doors. "Hey, Murph..." Murphy stopped and turned towards her. "I'm glad you're okay..." He nodded and opened his arms to her, allowing her to collapse in them. He stood there with her, smelling her hair, grateful to see the light of another day. She pulled away after a moment or two, to look up at him. "Heal up quick, because we've still got work to do.


	15. Fourteen: Planning for the Pale Horseman

Chapter Fourteen: Planning for the Pale Horseman

The apartment was quiet and dim when Murphy and Eve had hobbled in, and it didn't look like Connor had been home. They exchanged worried glances as they cautiously entered the living room, careful to step quietly. The last they knew was that he had called Smecker in an attempt to save them from jail-time. Instinctively, their hands dropped to their hips, but felt nothing there; they'd left them in the apartment when Eve carried Murphy to the lobby.

Murphy called to his brother through a whisper. "Connor, are you here?" Eve looked to him in disbelief. He caught the disillusioned expression, and shrugged.

"Well, now that everyone knows we're here, ya don't have to whisper. If Connor could hear you, why couldn't anybody else?" Eve shook her head. At that moment, Connor came through the door, letting it slam behind him. The heavy door falling into its frame startled them; they jumped towards the door, almost careening in to Connor.

"Oi, the fuck is this, then?" Murphy caught himself from stumbling into his brothers knees, while Eve landed hard against his shoulder, knocking him back a few steps. "Well hello there, happy to see ya too, Eve." Amused, Connor chuckled until Eve pounded a closed fist on his chest.

"Connor, that was not funny! The hell are you thinkin' doin' this shit, man?" Connor rubbed the area mockingly. She could hear Murphy trying to stifle laughter behind her as Connor's smile only got bigger until they were both cracking up. "You assholes really have a sick sense of humor, ya know that?" The brothers looked at each other, still laughing.

"Oh, Eve, what's the matter with a lil fun every now and then? Why so serious?" Murphy cracked, chasing after her as she stormed off. He stopped in mid-stride and looked to Connor, trying not to laugh. "It must be that time of the month."

"Fuck you, Murphy." Eve called from the kitchen. The boys looked at each other trying to stifle a snicker. "Get in here; we've got a plan to make." She called again. They exchanged protesting glances and trudged through the door. Eve was leaning over a few pieces of yellow lined paper with a pen, a faraway look in her eye as she chewed at the cap. She began to draw on a piece of the paper, outlining her father's property. It was a decently sized property, and easy to navigate, but navigation wouldn't be the real issue. Getting in, doing the deed, and getting the hell out would be. "Alright…" She said capping the pen, and breathing out a sigh. "This is the general set-up." She pointed to a corner of the property. "We should be able to make a hole big enough in the fence for all three of us to crawl through. There will be cover on the other side in the hedges, so we can try to avoid being seen. Silencers are a big thing in this, and I know you guys like to put on a show, but don't…"

"What's wrong with bravado? Go big, or go home." Connor mused. Eve ignored him and traced her finger up the side of the 2D property.

"The area along the fence isn't lit, so we can crawl by the fence. We're ninjas, or we're dead, boys." She shot a warning gaze at both boys, making sure that point stuck. "From there, there's cover at the back of the house." Her finger followed her vocal directions. "There are armed guards circling the halls, so keep focus and no cracking jokes. Ninjas." She pointed to the back of the house parameter: "We'll head up the back porch stairs and pick the lock, take out the flunkies, and make our way to my father's office. Just remember, armed guards, keep focus." She looked up from the page, waiting for Connor and Murphy to agree."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "By any chance… Did you get this from a movie?" Eve's eyes fell to the ground, sheepishly.

"Kinda, but it sounds like it'll work…" She glanced around the room, smirks forming on their faces. "It's nothing you've never done. Like Connor said: 'Go big, or go home.' At least mine is quiet." She shuffled her feet a little nervously, and after a moment, the boys nodded their heads.

"This is true…" He nodded, accepting that fact. "We'll give it a shot, but plans have a tendency to backfire around us." Murphy mused, grimly. "We should give ourselves a day to heal up, and then go in guns blazon." Eve nodded to Murphy, holding his nervous gaze briefly. "Let's get to sleep; we've got a painful day ahead of us, full of aspirin and ice packs." Eve smirked and let a tense breath escape.


End file.
